The Fitness Guru Has Spoken

My dilemma of the previous post has been solved. One more conflict removed from life.

The answer: stay within the endurance zone. Since my goal is to first get in shape and loose weight, Deb, The f.i.t Fitness Guru, has advised me that the endurance zone is the best way for me to burn fat. So burn, baby, burn!

And while I was a little leary of being left behind – or more importantly being the only one noticeably taking it back a notch to stay within in my zone, whether it be spending more time in the saddle in spin or doing more off the bag in kickboxing – I will let my heart rate monitor be my guide.

It’s a slow process, the pounds aren’t melting away as easily as they did the first time around 10 years ago, but I do notice a difference in the way my close fit – not a change in size, but in comfort and (blessedly) some slight bagginess.

I’ll take my victories where I can get them.

Zone Envy

It's time to move on, at least for some, and I am not sure if I am part of that pack.

Endurance training has now progressed to strength training, particulalry for those who are doing the triathalon. While I am not doing the triathalon, I am not one who likes to be left behind.

However, staying in the endurance zone burns more fat, therefore more successful for those, like me, who want to loose weight. But I want to be strong, too, hence my desire to move into the strength zone with everyone else. I am struggling with staying in the endurance zone with thoughts like "hell, but if my heart rate is up, and I am sweating like a whore in church, and focused on strength, aren't I bound to burn calories along the way?" Which is right back to my erroneous thought process that I used before teaming up with my heart rate monitor, which has been a great workout buddy.

I'm not sure how to balance this. Do I stay in endurance? Do I go totally to strength? Do I alternate days -- say, kickboxing days are strength, and spinning I aim to stay in endurance. or visa versa because I do love pushing it in spin. Is there any benefit to that?

Oh, the conflict . . .

Deliver Me

I have enterred the Tenth Circle of Hell: Springtime, the one not written about in Dante's Divine Comedy.

If global warming is can kill all pollen-producing trees and flowers and every other allergen that has created the never ending faucet that has become my nose, then crank up the heat and burn this baby down.

I have been fortunate not to have struggled with springtime allergies -- until this year. I am in absolute misery. And I know I am not exaggerating because my normally sympathy-vacant husband is actually nice, and well, sympathetic to my plight.

I don't have to describe the sinus pressure, the runny nose to those who know what I am talking about. But I am lucky. I have a symptom that not many other people have -- I physically react to pollen -- a very itchy rash not unlike poison ivy which has caused me to literally bathe in anti-itch creams and lotions. Walgreens knows me by my first name.

Back From the Land of Loose Change and Flip Flops

With one wedding in Las Vegas, and another in San Diego a week later, more time was spent out of the gym than in it.

But I am back, and it is almost like starting from scratch.

I was spoiled on vacation, sort of. I slept each day until 6 a.m. -- which is truly 9 a.m. by my body's clock. And since I have been home getting up at 5:15 a.m. EST -- and BST, body standard time -- has been a challenge.

In Vegas, the first leg of my trip, my motivation to remain on the fitness wagon was still going strong, despite the exorbitant amount of money -- on top of your room fee -- that these hotels charge just to walk through the door of their fitness center. As if my husband wasn't donating ENOUGH of our money at the casino. . . .so every morning I would get up at 6 a.m. and walk the strip. There were only three types of people out at that hour in Vegas: those like me who decided to lace up their sneakers and take to the streets and not spend any more money than necessary to exercise; the homeless, who blend in with everybody else during the city's waking hours, but not so much at dawn; and those poor girls -- usually with their high heels in their hands and not on their feet -- stumbling along "The Walk of Shame" back to their hotel room.

But once we left Vegas and headed first to Santa Monica/Los Angeles/Hollywood -- which is a pit -- it was downhill from there. Hollywood itself was pretty scurvy. I feel safer in some of the bad sections of Boston after dark than I do in Hollywood during the day. Huge disappointment. Walked to the furthest coffee shop each morning to get my coffee, but did not stray too far from the beaten path for fear of, well, being beaten. No matter how hard I tried, I still screamed "Backwoods Tourist." The one redeeming thing: Starbucks on every other street corner, literally. Here, I have to go to the nearest Barnes and Noble for a Starbucks, and it's not like every town has a bookstore . . . Oh yeah, and In-N-Out Burger, that is just something to experience. But thank the God who created Calvin Klein and Levi's that there isn't one around here . . . .

On to San Diego, where, well, I was basically a bridal bitch. A bridesmaid. I was there to serve. But seriously, it was a great wedding and I was honored to be part of it. My friend is a Lt. Commander -- a doctor -- in the Navy (I am very proud of her, adn like to brag), her husband is a Captain in the Marines. It was a full-blown military wedding. It was a love story born in combat in the Iraq desert, and it was a very beautiful ceremony.

And then, after days in the desert, on the road, in the smog, in the sun and beautiful weather, just as I was thinking -- Hey, let's look at some real estate -- it was time to get back on a plane and go home.

And here I am. After a few stuttering starts -- due mostly to a hip injury (I think) got while hoisting one of our suitcases -- I am back!

Is there still time to get that beach body?